


34 Years

by BloodSugarDaddy



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Multi, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodSugarDaddy/pseuds/BloodSugarDaddy
Summary: A Vampire comes home from the war, but things have changed and not for the better. He reflects on this, repairing the damage his sanctuary has suffered and taking back his neighborhood from the young gang of vampires hellbent on making a mess of it. Along the way, he meets certain people who remind him what it's like to Feel.





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is very short, just to establish setting more or less. The rest of the chapters will be much longer and more involved!  
> For more on this character (including art) check out the 34 Years tag on my tumblr!  
> http://bloodsugardaddy.tumblr.com/tagged/34-years (NSFW teratophilia Blog)

One night, a vampire stood on a sidewalk.

There was nothing special about this particular sidewalk, except that it led to the home this vampire had been longing for since the very moment he’d left it. The concrete was old. Even before He had left, grass and moss had been eating its way up through the cracks in its surface and tree roots warped its shape from beneath, yet it stubbornly clung to the idea that it was a path to anywhere.

Now, the once lush moss was dry and dead, and bits of shattered glass winked bright and unnatural all over it. The willow tree in the front corner of His yard was bare and sad, its once glorious tresses shorn, split, leafless. The once dramatic elegance of His Victorian Gothic styled home now hunched itself, squatting on the corner of the dark neighborhood street like a gargoyle, its rich amaranthine panels accented by black and gold all stained, drooping, scorched in places. His garden, once dominating the space in front of the porch and lining the long walkway to the street was gone.. Broken sticks and wilted, rotted flower heads drooping at the ends of brittle stalks.

He’d once won an award for those roses.

He wanted to be sad for the ruination. He wanted to be angry, or indignant, or grieve for what had been lost.

He wanted to… but all he could manage was Tired.

34 years was nothing in the vast span of time in a vampire’s life, especially one as old as He was. It should have felt like a long weekend in the grand scheme of things- but it didn’t. It just felt like 34 years of endless, brutal war. A battle that had left scars both physical and otherwise, so numerous and deep that the vampire could only stand on the edge of the carnage and stare with quiet, detached exhaustion.

The street in front of His home and around the corner were full of cars he didn’t recognize. They’d parked up on the driveway and in the lawn. They’d parked in the lawns of his neighbors too and across the street as well, like a pack of stray dogs tired of chewing up his Rhododendrons and content to now lay in the mess they’d made.

Those responsible sat atop their vehicles or gathered in the middle, where they’d lit a fire on the pavement. When He looked, he could see the flames glinting off of sharp white fangs as they cackled and whooped and snarled.

Vampires. Young ones, he guessed by their demeanors and wild eyes, fledglings unminded by any sires and determined to make asses of themselves any way that occurred to them. They also looked far too human to be older than a few years at most. Vampires had a way of mutating over time, reflecting the powers they used the most and evolving to better employ them.. These pups boasted fangs and little else.

He could smell other things, too. He could smell humans among them, huddled and bound near the fire with blood in their breath and fear on their skin. Damaged by their playful captors, doomed to be toy or food or both and ill equipped to do much more than sob or beg or bleed.

Someone threw a bottle at him.

It broke at his feet, the bitter contents spraying across the hem of his cloak and staining his boots, far more insult than injury. They called at him, jeered at him, ignorant of who this tall monster was or the follies that had earned their fate.

Even then, even after all of this, he may have walked away. He may have just gone into his house and put the rowdy gang from his mind for the night. He may have spared them. They were just errant children with no master present to teach them sense or class, given the run of a neighborhood seemingly abandoned for probably longer than most of them had been alive.

But you know what? Fuck it.

Had He not earned his home back? Had he not bled a thousand times for the right to return to this place? Now, to find it in this state and have a fucking whelp throw a bottle at him.

Perhaps he should be grateful, in a way… he was finally feeling something again.

Rage.


	2. Chapter 2 - Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vampire clears the trash out of his yard and meets a few new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank to Miranda for helping me with characters and rping a bit when I got stuck!

The captives were held near the fire, bound tight in silver braids. He recognized the uniform of one human, his hair mussed and chest holster empty as it hugged a strong chest clad in torn white shirt. That one had a look on his face of desperate defiance and authority. An officer of some sort, most like. There was a checkmark shaped scar on his left cheekbone, his hair a short and curly mess of brown- but in the light of the fire, the vampire’s keen eyes could see faint streaks of red. So too could he spot freckles dusting tan skin, and spy golden flecks swimming in honey brown eyes.

The others were a myriad of humans and vampires likely belonging to a gang differing to that of their captors, but all of them bled the same under cruel hands and toothy smiles.

The cop was looking at him, and he could smell his fear even over the coppery lust of bloodscent and flame and oil. The eye contact stirred something deep in his breast. A heat he had long since forgotten the name of, sweet and painful… Something soft and delicate but bordered by razors made hard to swallow. An attraction as keen as it was sad.

His gaze dropped down to the silver star hanging on a chain around the man’s throat, and then away, turning his attention now to the hyenas growing more restless the longer he ignored their jibes and demands and thrown projectiles.

Then his eyes began to glow.

It was an old power he called upon now, one he’d not used for a few years now but which responded with the swift eagerness of a favored lover. His eyes, white and silver on a field of blackish red sclera, widened and bled mercury… brighter and brighter and brighter and then a flash- a terrible and blinding burst of light from the depths of his will that briefly gave them a glimpse of daylight on the otherwise dark street.

Then it faded, and in its wake a heavy silence.

No chattering or calling, no drinking or braying, no cursing or laughing. No crickets, no birds, no dogs. For several seconds there was only the silence, as though the world around them held its breath in anticipation of discovery.

The vampires were dead.   
Reduced to glittering ash no more valuable than the bits of shattered glass, a stray breeze picked them out from their cars and from the street and made them no more. All that remained were the captives, huddled together by the drowned embers of the bonfire and encircled by ruinnation.

“Who are you?”

It was the cop who ended the silence, his courage plucked and eyes wide. If anything, his fear scent had only sharpened in the absence of his tormentors, all removed in an instant by the newcomer.

“…Gneiss.” He allowed back, and his voice was a low, black timber that vibrated deep into the officer’s chest.

Gneiss. Gneiss was a vampire towering at almost seven feet in full height, crowned by a mess of thick black tresses tumbling down to his chest and mid back. Most of his body was covered by the long, smooth cloak with its tight black collar, but his silhouette was muscular and the scars visible on his face and throat spoke of a long and harsh life. Scattered across his black skin were golden freckles, like scattered stars. His ears were long and pointed, and from his forehead grew a single horn around four or five inches in length.

He knew what he looked like to humans. It was the same look younger fledglings gave him- awe and terror both intermixed as their hearts screamed and howled and cried out a single word.

Predator.

A voice half lost by static uttered worried questions by his feet, and Gneiss nudged the radio closer to the officer it had been taken from. Their bonds loosened, unraveling ribbons from their bodies, and most fled immediately from his sight. The human cop lingered, watching Gneiss with a peculiar expression, but hadn’t managed to give voice to his crowded thoughts before the tall creature had turned away from him.

Gneiss made his way up the path to the door of his once-home. The hinges shrieked with protest and the hardwood groaned beneath his feet as he stepped onto it, and a fresh wave of grief for its lost majesty rolled through him.

The gang and their hostages all but forgotten, the vampire ran his long fingers across the walls and up the banister. Damask patterns were lost under chips and layers of grime. Wood, once dark cherry was now broken, brittle, dull, and scratched. Books and papers were scattered all over the floor like the corpses of bursted birds, feather pages ripped and damp. Years of spray paint lead the way down the halls, and at the end of the path a soft sound caught his attention, like the whimper of a child.

Gneiss pressed a hand to the door and pushed. There was a dresser shoved up against it from the other side, but with his strength it might as well have been cardboard instead of thick oak. A figure ran past, and the vampire blurred after it, instinctively snatching the throat of the intruder and slamming them up against the wall.

A woman.   
A human woman, all round curves and doe eyes and long, curling hair. Terror radiated from her, body trembling and held aloft from the floor by several feet to be at eye level with Gneiss. He could hear her heartbeat fluttering in her chest, a hummingbird trapped behind brittle mortal bones… Before he could decide what to do with her though, awareness tingled, and he sensed another person nearby. A vampire, perhaps working up the courage to attack him?

“Do not even try.”

“L-let her go-!” The vampire responded in the wake of his warning, her hands raised and tightly grasping an iron fire poker. As if that would stand any chance against the monster in front of her. 

For a vampire - she was not as young as the ones that had been outside, but that didn’t change how small she was. Only a mere couple inches over 5 feet with waves of dusty rose hair fanning around her shoulders and down her back. It matched her eyes - even though the color was clearly not natural to her, as was evident by the dark roots that were starting to come in.

“I- I said let her go!” She shouted more firmly despite her fear, doing her best not to shake too much.

“Brave woman.” Gneiss decided, watching the vampiress from the corner of his eye. 

After a few seconds, he lowered the human back down to the floor and let her go. She slumped at once and scrambled sideways, trying to get closer to her lover and away from him. He let her, the familiar exhaustion gnawing its way up his spine far too quickly to want to expend what little energy he had left against the willful girls. 

“You are trespassing.” He noted, but his tone was less of a harsh accusation as it was an invitation for explanation.

“W…. well it’s not like there was anyone living here!” The vampire said, still trembling and still with the iron rod pointed out as she shifted her feet just enough to move herself between them, “No one has been in this place for ages! We just… We didn’t have anywhere else to go…” She explained with a grimace.

“Those pictures we found in the other bedroom..” The human whispered, tugging lightly at the other’s sleeve, “He looks a lot like the woman- maybe it’s his family’s house? That could have been his sister or something.”

“It’s My house.” Said Gneiss flatly, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. No, there was no woman, no sister. There was only who he was before the war, and who he was after it, “Stay, then. I need to rest. Bother me not, and we’ll discuss this again tomorrow provided you haven’t already departed.”

“What- You’re.. You’re not going to make us leave?” 

“Not tonight.”   
They clearly weren’t here to cause any trouble, and from what he could tell did not seem responsible for the state of disrepair in his home. Besides that, the sun was soon to rise. He could feel the changes in the air, the subtle drop in temperature as the eastern sky paled. No, he wouldn’t chase them out to die, not right now.

The sprite like vampire continued to hold her position, watching as he started to slowly make his way down the hallway in the search of his room. The surprise of the two women followed him, and he heard whispers questions in his wake, asking after the health of her human companion.

The girl was fine, though, he hadn’t harmed her. A stray bruise perhaps and nothing more. It was a shame that mortals took injury like soft peaches- but he rather liked that about them too. Soft, to be handled with gentle care.. Not at all like his species, who grew more and more like marble with every passing, ageless year.

His room waited for him.   
A solid panel of black wood, seamless and enchanted to remain closed except for at his touch. When he did rest his hand flat against it, the room answered and the door opened, granting him the sweet relief of familiarity he’d been so craving.

Untouched.

The walls were white and crisp, the accents of frames and furniture black as night. The plush rug beneath his feet was such a deep, rich red that it bordered on purple, and when he ran his hand across the rosewood bed frame, the only blemish upon it was dust.

There was a picture on a shelf. Gneiss took it and looked upon it only briefly, for the sake of nostalgia. His own face looked back at him from it, although his hair was shorter and his body slighter- more feminine than now. There were no scars on it either, and he was surrounded by the glorious roses for which his home had once been known. A woman.

No longer.

If nothing else, he did have the war to thank for that. He had learned who he truly was on that battlefield, and found the courage to follow through.. This woman was a lost relic. He put her face down back on the shelf and then turned to touch the bay windows looking out on the street he’d just left a few minutes ago. The glass darkened, tinting itself to black and plunging him in the cool darkness his tired body yearned for… and then he shed from himself the thick layers of his clothes and descended into bed.

The women in his house. Perhaps they were just lost too. Perhaps they were just looking for a home. He’d been gone for so long, it seemed cruel to dump them out on their ear, so Gneiss decided that if they were still there tomorrow, he’d let them stay.

Mercy.


End file.
